


In which nothing of importance happens (except for everything)

by lorarawr



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone is friends, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I Don't Even Know, Multi, Swearing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, modern universe in which everyone is alive, this ends in disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorarawr/pseuds/lorarawr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens. Well this is sort of what happens. There are definitely some details that are changed before wives and bosses show up, but the story is pretty much the same. </p><p>It begins with a bet.</p><p>It ends in a hospital room.</p><p>In the middle there are numerous bottles of wine, and overtaking a kickball game on the Mall.</p><p>But really, it begins with Hamilton and Burr. </p><p> </p><p>-<br/>Set in a universe where everyone is alive and in the modern world and George Washington is president. Starts Hamilton as the Treasury Secretary, Laurens as the Chief of Staff to President Washington, Mulligan as the deputy director of the CIA,  Lafayette as the French Ambassador and Burr as the Senator from New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So here’s what happens.

This is what happens. Well this is sort of what happens. There are some details that get fudged and skewed and eliminated and _never mentioned ever again, I mean it John_ before wives and bosses show up, but really, the story is mostly the same.

 

So here’s what happens.

 

It starts with a bet.

 

Okay, so it doesn’t start with a bet. It starts with three bottles of Cabernet at Del Frisco’s on Penn and 15th because is it just far enough away from the Oval so that it doesn’t seem sad to be drinking that close to work. They sit at a back table in the corner of the bar area that makes the security detail only twitch a little bit, and they order wine and these silly Philly cheese-steak egg rolls that Lafayette simply can’t get enough of.

 

“This my friends, is why your country is wonderful and beautiful but will never be as good as France.”

 

Alex takes almost immediate offense to that, but the fact of the matter is that they are being served slivered steak slices and cheese wiz deep fried in a wanton. It is pretty damming evidence.

 

It starts with the four of them enjoying each other’s company, celebrating Lafayette being back in America for another round of social/political/look all these countries getting along celebrations in rented out ballrooms with new and inventive ways to use puff pastries and 2nd tier caliber champagne.

 

It does not start with Burr walking into the restaurant, deep navy pinstripe suit on, head bowed and surreptitiously checking his email.

 

(okay that part may be a lie)

 

But here are the factors that should be considered. One: there are good friends drinking good wine in the back of a decent restaurant, on a Thursday of a week in which no crises have occurred. Two: the outlook for any crisis occurring tomorrow are also looking pretty slim. Three: with there having been no crises to control, no damages to be undone, no ruffles to smooth over all week has left plenty of time to complete the paperwork that has been left leaning on tables and overwhelming inboxes for months. In other words, Hamilton, the Treasury Secretary, Laurens, the Chief of Staff to President Washington, Mulligan, the deputy director of the CIA, and Lafayette the French Ambassador are _fucking bored._

 

“Jesus though, I saw an intern smiling today. There was no quaking fear, and I think she may have gotten eight hours of sleep last night. Eight!”

 

“I think there’s one in our office that now believes he will have a long, prosperous, stable career in politics and government. Ha! Just wait until we decided to make a decision on interest rates”

 

“Is that going to happen anytime soon, mon ami?”

 

“God I hope so, just to watch Adams panic while the Fed deliberates. He paces. It’s hilarious”

 

“Fucking Adams.” They cheers.

 

So really, it starts with boredom, three glasses of wine, and Hercules Mulligan glancing across the bar and smiling wide and menacing.

 

“Burr’s here.”

 

Three additional heads swivel. The security details for Laurens and Hamilton wince.

 

“BURR!” the chorus erupts.

 

Across the room, the Senator’s head pops up from where he has continued to respond to emails. His face transforms into half grimace, half smile which Lafayette takes immediate offense to. Hamilton pats the French ambassador on the back and pops out of the booth.

 

“Senator Burr, sir! Aaron, come, you must join us.” Hamilton exclaims as he walks across the floor of the bar, arms outstretched.

 

“Secretary Hamilton, I didn’t know you were here tonight.” Burr responds, shaking Alexander’s hand as he arrives.

 

“Burr it almost sounds as if you are not happy to see me.” He retorts, hand over his heart

 

“On the contrary, I am simply surprised to see you. Are you not usually still bent over a desk at this hour, jotting away letters to the editor for any newspaper that has offended your plans or sensibilities?”

 

“Burr, you wound me. I have twitter now. I am _never_ not retorting to people now.”

 

“Of course. How could I be so remiss?”

 

“Come, have a drink with us in apology then. Lafayette is here from France and nothing has burned to the ground this week so we are celebrating.”

 

“I’m not sure. I was planning on meeting a colleague here.”

 

“Are they here?”

 

“No,” Burr frowns, glancing down to the phone in his hand, “he just canceled. Something about his dog.”

 

“Well then, it’s settled. Come on, Burr, have a drink with us. It’ll be just like law school all over again!”

 

“That’s what I’m afraid off.”

 

“Hamilton! Burr!” They hear Laurens shout from the corner table, gesturing to the frazzled waiter leaving them, “We are ordering for you, hurry back!”

 

"One drink Alexander," Burr sighs, resigning himself to his fate, slipping his phone back into the pocket of his bespoke suit.

 

"Of course, that is all were planning on anyways"

 

\---

 

There are things that happen.

 

There are moments. Moments that the words don't reach.  And there are also moment when people in the highest echelon of power in America wonder how any of those four (okay five) remain in any position of authority. Those moments of wonderment almost always arise after Burr agrees to one drink with the quartet, and definitely always occur after Mulligan teaches the rest of them how to ditch their security details.

 

So one drink turns to several and then there is a quite amazing amount of CIA funded training put into sneaking out one Secretary, one Ambassador, one Senator and one (whatever the fuck you want to call yourself John). They are out on the street and five blocks over before anyone notices anything out of the ordinary.

 

And by then it is too late.

 

It will all end with a Code Grey, and the roads of DC shut down so that emergency medical personnel can quickly get to and treat high ranking political and government officials. It will end with a level 9 I’m-very-disappointed-in-you speech from bosses and wives.

 

But it begins with a bet.

 

And a glow in the dark t-shirt.

 

And at this point, four bottles of wine and one flask that Mulligan always keeps in his right breast pocket.

 

The quartet plus Burr strolls along the Mall, weaving in and around absent minded tourists taking photos outside of Smithsonians, unaware of the men they are bumping into to get the perfect shot.

 

They wander and talk, mild political barbs around the upcoming session, mostly gentle comments around Burr’s wardrobe and what country had the GDP closest to its worth, and a soft unspoken appreciation for how beautiful the monuments to the great men who founded this nation look at sunset.

 

At the base of one of those monuments, a group of people are mingling in two different colors of fluorescently bright t-shirts, blue and purple.

 

"Dude" John nudges Alexander and juts his head down that way.

 

“Fuck. Yes" he responds, his answer only amplified when a glow in the dark soccer ball makes its appearance.

 

"Football!" Lafayette exclaims, his grin wide and his arms outstretched.

 

"Soccer!" The others retort.

 

Hamilton takes a deep breath and the others know that this will only end in a long detailed exposition on the language nuances between those on either side of the Atlantic, so instead, Hercules starts running down to where the teams are set up. Burr follows, as does Lafayette and before Alex can even get started really, he's already lost his audience, John seemingly having abandoning him as well. Alex frowns, and pouts, and then follows them down to where the group is gathering, a genius idea forming in his head.

 

It will end with a small but meaningful donation to the intramural leagues of DC, and a scribbled apology written on official stationary.

 

It will end with truly unnecessary press coverage.

 

But it begins with a bet. And with a competitive spirit that always transforms into a winners-take-all cutthroat attitude.

 

It begins with Hamilton and Laurens convincing the two teams that the five of them would be great additions to their game of what actually ends up being kickball.

 

“You better call this kickball in France, Gilbert”

 

“Mon ami, I do not think this is a thing we play in France”

 

“Your loss.”

 

The game is amplified by the very loudly spoken fact that Hamilton and Burr are never allowed to be on the same team, so Lafayette and Hercules join forces with Burr on one side, and Laurens remains with Hamilton on the other.

 

It is elevated by the fact that Alexander both loves and is aghast at the names each team has chosen: "Balls N Dolls" and “Much Ado About Balls.”

 

"These are amazing. John, can I have them make me a new title? Ohh can they rename the Vice Presidency. Kids, make it viscous and vulgar, I know you can"

 

The “kids” are in reality young twenty somethings with a multitude of professions in the city and graduate school degrees in pursuit. There is one girl in the back of the huddled group that makes a small noise and presides to quickly and mercilessly swallow whatever is in her water bottle as they approach and barter for spots on the team.  From her wince, Hamilton suspects it is not water. God to be 24 again.

 

He will find out in three house that she works at the Treasury Department, entry level, but used to walking by his portrait every morning.

 

Huh, his assistant had made him cut his hair for that. He feels pretty unrecognizable from that.

 

But really, it all beings with the fact that Burr and Hamilton (Hamilton and Burr) are competitive and bet each truly important political favors over who will a game of glow in the dark kick ball. A game in which both teams have been drinking truly genius concoctions out of water bottles and coffee tumblers for the past half hour. A game in which the time limit is completely dependent of the prowess of security details.

 

“Game on, Burr” Hamilton smiles, tying his hair up into a bun.

 

“See you on the other side, Hamilton.” Burr responds, eyes glinting in the fading light of dusk.

 

“Fare thee well Alexander, prepare to meet your fate” Lafayette adds, before turning to join the team first up to kick.

 

“Man, you can’t say that, you didn’t even know this was a sport until five minutes ago,” John retorts back, headed to man third base

 

“Do not make me regret letting us skip out on security details” Mulligan warns.

 

It will end with Mulligan regretting letting them skip out on security details.

 

But it began with a bet.

 

 


	2. in which details emerge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hercules regrets everything, John tries to keep everything together, and Burr and Hamilton are no help at all.

Here are some things that are true.

 

One. The foursome and Burr have been, if not friends, than friendly, since they were all in college, when they were all young and idealistic.

 

Two. Burr, Hamilton and Laurens all served together in some form or another over the next four years after school, while Hercules went off to do super cool spy shit ("you know we don't actually call it that right?") and Lafayette went back to France to eat macaroons ("that is 100% accurate").

 

Three. The coincidences and situations that all had to occur for them to all end up in the Capitol are incredible and book worthy and didn't have anything at all to do with drunken, messy, not at all teary-eyed promises made at Lafayette’s wedding.

 

Four. These are men who are at the top of their profession, who guide the nation and protect it, who grow and nurture it, and who advise the real, elected leaders of it. They are eloquent men of great renown.

 

Five. They are all fucking idiots.

 

"Jesus that is a lot of blood"

 

"Holy shit man that is a lot of blood"

 

"What? Am I bleeding?"

 

"Oh man sir, that was gnarly.  Are you okay?"

 

"I am mostly not okay with you using the word gnarly. Jesus, where did you go to school?"

 

"Alexander, are you alright? Damn are you bleeding?"

 

"I'm fine, where's Burr?"

 

"Dude is pale as fuck, Hamilton. One of the girls thinks she heard a crack."

 

"Jesus, he broke his leg?"

 

"Man, I think you broke his leg."

 

"That's impossible."

 

"I don't know Alex, your head is pretty hard."

 

Ales goes to nod and the world goes the other direction.

 

"Woah, carousel." He reaches up to grab his head to steady it, he guess, it’s all sort of swirly and his hand comes away tacky. "Dude," he says, examining his fingers in wonder, "I think I'm bleeding"

 

"We're all dead. There is no way we're going to get away with this." Mulligan glares at all of them.

 

"We could totally get away with it. All we need is for someone to...you know...do something...somewhere that is bad…worse…evil. And then no one can...get angry. At us" Alexander pauses at the end of this thought, and frowns, "My head hurts."

 

"Okay, Alex, let's get you off the field," John sighs, placing his shoulder underneath Hamilton's arm and lifting.

 

“Woah, warnings before lift-off” Hamilton moans, closing his eyes and swallowing rapidly.

 

“Trust me, it doesn’t make it any better,” John says, before turning to the hovering Mulligan, “Hercules, can you help Lafayette with Burr?"

 

Burr is about five feet away, sitting on the damp grass that surrounds first base and glaring at his left leg. His hands are reflexively clenching and unclenching by his side, and his jaw is set. He is silent, but is forehead is furrowed with pain. Lafayette sits cross-legged next to him, appraising the Senator while rambling on about how this is a fine example of why they do not play kickball in France.

 

John deposits Hamilton on a bench on the gravel path near where the game had been occurring, and crouches down in front of him to examine his still bleeding head wound. There is a gash high up in his hair line that is several inches long, and is just coating his face, and matting his hair, and John knows there is no way they are going to be able to get away with this. The press secretary is going to kill him. 

 

"Stop" Alexander says as he swats Laurens hands away, "I'm...fine"

 

“You are most certainly not fine and most definitely going to need stitches and probably a CAT scan”

 

“Okay that...is just....an...exaggeration. We'll drop...Burr off...and then I'll sleep...at your place...and nobody needs...to know.”

 

"Yeah that would have been a hell lot more convincing if that sentence hadn't taken you ten minutes to get out. And I am not going to try and sneak this past Eliza. She's terrifying. “

 

"Yeah she is," Alexander goofily grins back, smile wide. It would look innocent and normal if it weren't for the blood that continues to cake half his face.

 

"You look like a horror movie reject,"

 

"Do not. How's Burr?"

 

"Regretting ever leaving his office tonight probably"

 

Burr is in fact regretting ever leaving his home that morning. With more gentleness than he had been expecting from Director Mulligan and Ambassador Lafayette, he has have ever so slowly been making his way over to the bench, his arms draped over both of their shoulders, pain radiating up his whole body with every step that they take. Any original hope that his ankle was simple loose or sprained had evaporated as soon as they had helped him stand. The smallest amount of weight on the limb has caused stars to erupt in his vision, and for him to emit a small moan that he has been immediately embarrassed by. Yet, the Ambassador had simply paused momentarily, and quietly reminded Aaron to breathe.

 

They gently ease him down on to the bench next to Hamilton.

 

"Uhm, excuse me sir?" It's water bottle champ girl from earlier, who looks like she has sobered up immediately and intensely, swiftly approaching the group, "Do we need to call 911?”

 

“NO” They all respond in unison, mostly in horror, because Jesus, they’ll never live it down if they have entry level treasury department analysts calling ambulances for them

 

“No, no we are going to leave in a moment, we’re just catching our breath” Laurens responds, and starts to rapidly start to think of any plan that doesn’t involve them having to call an ambulance because Hamilton is listing to the left slightly and Burr’s ankle has swollen to double its normal size already.

 

“Oh,” she responds, brow furrowing, an adorably quizzical, _you are very important people but I think that is bullshit_ expression on her face that had it been directed at anyone else would have been hilarious, but right now is sort of insulting because they will figure this out eventually, okay.  “How are you going to move Mr. Hamilton and the Senator? They definitely look like they need to go to the hospital. Our team only has lawyers and consultants, but I think the “Drinkers with a Kicking Problem” team has an attending. My friend Becky has his number, we can call him.”

 

“Oh god,” Hamilton moans

 

“No listen, thank you so much Robin, but we’ve got people coming to get us” John responds, smiling, putting forth charm that has convinced heads of state and members of congress that he’s right, and on top of it, and everything will be okay.

 

“We do?" Lafayette whispers to Mulligan, having stopped believing anything Laurens said around the time of his bachelor party and tequila worms.

 

“Shh,” Mulligan whispers back, who knows how important it is to keep a story straight

 

“Oh…okay! Oh yeah, I see them now” She brightens up, seeing something over their shoulders that eases the tension in her body that seems to always come about after you’ve just watched a member of the cabinet bleed all over your glow-in-the dark kickball while simultaneously a United States Senator moans over the flimsy plastic indicator for first base.

 

“You do?” John and Hercules startle, and turn to look behind them.

 

“Shit.” Burr exhales, turning to see the fucking armada of secret service agents in both plain clothes and in uniform approaching at a steady pace of _we want to fucking run but we cannot panic all the tourist._

 

“Maybe they just want to join in?” Hamilton weakly offers up

 

“Hamilton, just try to appear not dead or dying okay? They are all over-bearing mother hens on a good day, and you look fucking awful right now,” John says, running his hands over his face and succumbing to his fate. 

 

“Hey...maybe they won’t tell anyone. Isn’t that...something that they do...like they are the _secret_ service _._ We'll just tell them...that it's a secret."

“Yeah that may have worked before you had the catcher, and I quote, ‘live tweet your epic comeback over Burr’ in real time with the corresponding hashtag #ahamballjam.”

 

“Fuck.” He leans his head back against the back of the bench and closes his eyes. “At least the President isn’t on Twitter.”

 

Spoiler alert. The President is on Twitter. 

 


	3. The adventure continues to unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Benjamin Tallmadge makes a guest appearance, and there is a looming threat on the horizon.

 

The national mall at dusk is spectacular. On good, clear nights, when the sky is painted in hues of red, gold and purple, the marble government buildings that run parallel to the mall contrast wonderfully and almost majestically with their water color backdrop. These, these are the monuments and honors to boundless men; these are the homages to the greatness of old; the inspiration for a nation.

  
When the night is clear, and the sun sets slowly, languishing at the horizon, as if it does not want to give up the day, does not want to give up its kingdom to the moon; those are the nights in which the people who walk the paths of the Mall will often pause and drink it all in, tourist and local alike, amazed at what the drips and drops of sunlit hue can do to alabaster and marble. They will stop in the wanders and wonder at the vision, and ideate at the intellect of the great men who have worked and continue to work within those halls of stone. Sometimes they are so amazed and full of wonder and awe that they will accidentally and aimlessly stumble into another person, also alight and intoxicated by the beauty that they see...  
And that, my dear and beautiful Eliza s how Burr and I ran into each other."

"Oh yeah, she's totally going to believe that." John says, sitting on the wheelie stool next to the bed Hamilton has been sternly told to not move from.

"Well I mean, you got the intoxicated part right." Lafayette adds.

"Jesus, can't I just blame Burr? It's his fault his leg was where I wanted to be."

"Man, you slid into first base head first. It's your own fault"

"Agreed mon ami, that was now a good idea"

“Okay first of all, you are a traitor to this country by being on Burr’s team, and second, you still do not get a vote. You didn't know this was a sport until three hours ago.”

"As Laurens had also reminded me." Lafayette replies, "However, I do believe that I was on the victorious team, and thus think that I do get a vote in saying that you were particularly stupid trying to slide head first into a base."

"We were down by four!" He exclaims, and then winces as the pain in his head ricochets up.

Burr takes this moment to be rolled back into the room by an orderly, and followed by Mulligan.

"What's the verdict, Burr?” John asks, as the other man is helped into the other bed, his face still pale with pain.

“Broken, but no surgery needed, thankfully” He sighs, leaning his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. “I’ll be sure to send Hamilton the bill”

“Ahh yes, the beautiful American healthcare system. Tell me, Burr, will you have to sell your home in order to get a cast for the leg? Because, you know in France, we have this wonderful healthcare system in which-“

“We know” Burr and Hamilton interrupt, chorusing in unison, because Jesus they are working on it, but politics is hard (and being nice to people that don’t agree with you is really hard for some of them).

“Hercules, you’ve been awfully quiet.” John says, looking at the solemn man still standing near the door to the room

“Gentleman, we may have a problem”

\--  
Hercules Mulligan likes his boss--

  
Well that’s not exactly true. But Hercules likes most things about him. Director Tallmadge has a boyish exuberance for new and interesting information, creates an environment for innovative solutions from his subordinates, and isn't afraid to get down and dirty with the rest of them to keep the country safe. He also has a close (almost eye brow raising) relationship with one of their senior special agents that keeps Tallmadge grounded and not aloof, like so many other intelligence agency directors tend to be. All of these qualities make Mulligan like the Director of the CIA, but they are all eroded by the fact that Tallmadge won't ever fucking lie to Washington.

  
"Mulligan" Hercules looks up in abject horror from where he is sitting outside the x-ray department waiting on Burr and his leg. They’re never going to be allowed in public ever again.

  
"Sir!" He exclaims, standing rapidly to his feet to meet his boss full head on

  
"Mulligan why have I been called into GW Medical at 9pm at night?" He demands, though softly, as to not disturb the other patients. Agent Brewster stands behind his left shoulder, eyes twinkling with humor and delight at the panicked look that has set itself upon Hercules' face.

  
"Sir, we asked them to not call you,"

  
"That's not an answer Mulligan"

  
"No sir it's not"

  
Tallmadge sighs, crossing his arms in front of him, and continues to stare down at his deputy.

  
Mulligan squirms, "Sir, there's potentially a secretary of a cabinet level agency, and a US Senator currently being treated inside the ED for injuries they sustained during a very intense, very patriotic game of kickball"

  
Tallmadge doesn't even blink, though his left eyebrow does twitch slightly.

  
"Very patriotic?"

  
"Yes sir, it would have brought a tear to your eye."

  
Tallmadge sighs, "Mulligan, I take it to mean that those would be Sec. Hamilton and Senator Burr"

  
“Well it's not fucking Jefferson,” Hercules almost blurts out but stops himself just in time.

  
"Yes sir"

  
"And I assume John Laurens was a part of this as well, as well as Ambassador Lafayette? Which would have made this an international patriotic expression of freedom?"

  
"Uh, yes, sir."

  
"And that all of these men, most of whom have protective details, all seemed to lose them all at the same time, on accident, from the same location, without any aide or subterfuge?"

  
Fuck. "Sir..."

  
Tallmadge holds up his hand, "Would I be correct in this?"

  
"Well sir, yes but..."

  
At this, Brewster can't keep it to himself and cracks up, "Aw ease up Tall Boy, he hasn't had time yet to make up a story"

1\. Agent Brewster is the only person in any hemisphere or nearby planet that can get away with referring to the Director of the CIA, a man who knows more secret than your priest or Internet history, as Tall Boy.

“He’s a director of the CIA, Caleb. He should have had a fool proof story from five seconds before our esteemed treasury secretary rammed his head into a senator’s leg.”

2\. When a Cabinet level official and a member of Congress are both involved in an incident that requires emergency medical personnel within a mile of the capital, the heads of all intelligence and law enforcement agencies are put on high alert

“Wouldn’t you agree, Deputy Director Mulligan?”

3\. Benjamin Tallmadge sort of loves fucking with Hercules Mulligan because he and his friends are some of the best and brightest in the nation but together they are a catastrophic disaster shit storm.

“Yes sir.” Fuck. There are seriously never going to be allowed in public ever again. “It shouldn’t have even happened in the first place”

“Oh please Hercules, like you could control any of them. But get a story together, because I am only the first to arrive. I'm sure the others will be here soon.

Fuck.

“Others, sir?”

  
“Damn straight Hercules,” Brewster knocks in, a seemingly toothless grin gracing his face. “Old Georgie is fast on his way."

“No fucking way,” Laurens says, interrupting Hercules’ story, pivoting his swivel chair fast and hard to turn and stare him down.

  
“Shit. We are so screwed” Hamilton says,“Fuck Burr, why did your leg get in my way?”

“Why did you think it necessary to slide into first base during a recreational kick ball game?”

“Okay fuck you, I was representing America, and being an underdog.”

“That’s also called being a sore loser.”

“Oh really? And what would we call that play during the 2nd inning that definitely would have let Karen from the consulting firm be safe at third, except you cited a rule from the National Kickball League? Who does that shit? Seriously, where do you even keep that information?”

  
“Gentlemen” Hercules interrupts, “I think you have forgotten the predicament we are now in”

  
“Fuck- shit yes okay. John, can’t you distract him? Is there not a situation in the situation room that is more pressing that Burr’s dinky ill’ leg being broken”

  
“No matter how dinky or lil’ you’re still getting the bill”

  
“And still fuck you. But seriously John, don’t you have people whose main goal in life is to like, distract him?”

  
Laurens snorts at that, “Do you want me to use our bat signal that has the presidential seal?”

  
Alexander pauses, “Wait, do you really have one?”

  
“Yeah, right next to my secret escape hatch”

  
“Well thanks for being helpful. Hercules, could you create some disaster overseas? Something in like Asia or something? You know how he gets about Asia.”

  
“I think you are heavily overestimating my power”

  
“Mon ami,” Lafayette buts in, “I do not understand. The General is simply concerned”

  
“Yeah okay Golden Child, enjoy that ride while it lasts.”

  
“We may just have to accept our doom,” John says

  
“He’s never going to believe I was an innocent bystander,” Burr groans, sinking further down into his bed, realizing with growing trepidation that the President of the United States was just pulled from the White House, where he leads the Free World, because of them. Because they got drunk and pretended to be twenty four again; because Hamilton is an idiot; because seriously, who thought of making glow-in-the-dark kickballs; because it had been a boring week at work; because they are all fucking idiots and cannot be trusted to make smart decisions.

  
The President. Of the United States. Having to come to GW Hospital to see them (okay, let’s be real, he’s coming to yell at them). This has somehow become his life. This has somehow become all of their lives. There will be many stern words, there will probably be a raised eyebrow directly at him, and an “I expected more from you Aaron”, and Burr is just so not ready for it.

  
Even as this sinking horror grows within Burr, Hamilton has gone still, almost as if he is realizing the same thing.

  
“Lafayette. Dude. My friend. He won’t get mad at us if Lafayette got hurt. He’ll be so panicked. He won’t have time to yell. Gilbert, I need to punch you in the face.”

  
Or maybe not. Some people never learn.

  

 


End file.
